


Storm

by Farfallenstar



Series: A Difference In Temperature [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Bad Parent Jack Drake, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Parent Janet Drake, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Drake Being Jack Drake, Kinda, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake-centric, attempts by the victim to justify abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28057491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farfallenstar/pseuds/Farfallenstar
Summary: The caller ID read Bruce Wayne. He answered it.Or, Bruce realizes Tim is being neglected and flips his shit.
Relationships: Jack Drake & Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: A Difference In Temperature [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054856
Comments: 26
Kudos: 517





	1. Chapter 1

Tim was sitting on the couch now, arms hugging his knees and breathe leaving puffs of steam in the freezing air. The TV was on and playing some news channel or another.

(He couldn't even remember sitting down)

The ticking of the second hand on the clock disturbed the otherwise silent house, and Tim was vaguely aware that it bothered him. He wanted to take the batteries out of it. His finger twitched. He didn't get up.

_tick tock_

A fly buzzed around in front of the TV screen, then landed on the top for a moment before moving on and flying towards the kitchen.

_tick tock_

A sharp trilling sound rang from upstairs. It hurt.

_tick tock_

It was his phone. He should probably do something about it.

_tick tock_

The caller ID read Bruce Wayne. He answered it.

(Why was his phone in his hand? Oh. He was standing upstairs.)

_tick tock_

" _Hello?_ "

"Hey."

_tick tock_

" _Tim? Are you alright? You sound hoarse. I noticed that the lights at your house are off, did your parents leave already?_ "

_tick tock_

"They were never here."

_tick tock_

" _What?_ "

_tick tock_

"Something came up. It was more important, so my Dad decided not to come."

_tick tock_

" _So they just_ left _you there with only your housekeeper for company?_ "

(That was funny. Bruce sounded upset.)

_tick tock_

"No. Mrs. Mac is visiting her sister."

" _Tim. Where are you right now?_ " (Where was he?)

"My room."

_tick tock_

" _Is anyone else in the house with you?_ "

_tick tock_

"No."

" _I'm coming over._ "

_TICK_

_TOCK_


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting Closer To The Shit Flipping

Bruce was coming.

He said he was, so he was. Plain and simple. Bruce didn't lie.

Something about that phonecall must have jared him, because he was...

well

He was.

There wasn't really another way to describe it, this strange here-but-not feeling. Like coming out of a storm and into a fog. There were tears in his eyes now, blurring the corners of his vision as he kept his eyes trained on the floor. 

Tim waited.

His hands were red and rough from hours in the cold with nothing covering them, but he couldn't feel them. He tucked them under his armpits and rocked back and forth, a bad habit from childhood. 

(His father had pulled a chair out from under him for doing that. He had been seven.)

The doorbell rang. Tim didn't have the energy to answer.

It rang again. And again. After the third ring, Tim heard the door slam.

There were footsteps on the stairs, and the door seemed to fly open all at once, and then Bruce was there.

"Tim!" Bruce hurried to his side, tilting his head up for inspection. Tim jerked it back towards his chest.

He wasn't sure what had come over him, but his mind seemed to suddenly fill up with emotion. His already misty eyes welled up even further as awful croaking sobs tore themselves out of his throat. He rocked harder, digging his fingernails into his arms.

Bruce backed up, crouching a few feet away from Tim with his palms raised. It was how he approached frightened children.

(Tim wasn't sure if that made it made it better or worse.)

Bruce started talking again, voice low and soothing. "Hey, Tim. I'm gonna come closer now, is that ok?"

Tim sobbed harder, frantically rubbing his eyes with his balled up hands. He gave a jerky nod.

Bruce exhaled, and even that seemed rehearsed. "Ok." He murmured, lips curling up in an emotionless mimicry of a smile. "Ok."

He inched slowly closer, pulling off his coat as he did. It was heavy-looking and black, both durable and fashionable. He reached out, flinching when Tim did, and wrapped it around his shoulders. The weight settled on his shoulders like a hug.

(Like his mother's blankets around his shoulders as they sat in a comfy armchair)

Bruce's hands hovered around Tim as if he was unsure of what to do with them. Finally, he asked, "I'm going to pick you up now, is that ok?" 

Tim nodded again.

Slowly, as if afraid he would bolt, Bruce eased Tim into his arms and stood, still holding him. Tim wrapped his arms around Bruce's neck, burying his face in his shoulder.

"Tim? You're going to be spending a few days at The Manor, ok? You already have some clothes and a toothbrush there, is there anything else you need?"

Tim hesitated.

(Because _need_ and _want_ are two different things.)

"Bmam?"

Bruce shifted him slightly in his arms. "Sorry Tim, I'm going to need you to repeat that."

Tim lifted his head. "BamBam? He's m-my uh, my stuffed animal. 'S under the bed." Embarrassed, he hid his face in Bruce's shoulder again.

He felt rather than saw Bruce lean down, and a moment later something soft was pressed into his arms. BamBam.

"Here you go kiddo." Bruce murmured. "Time to go home now."


End file.
